


A Hug

by groaninlynch (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:38:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/groaninlynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is half a year later when Castiel appears before Dean Winchester again. Six months since he’d taken all those souls into himself. Forty-two weeks since Cas wasn’t Cas anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hug

It is half a year later when Castiel appears before Dean Winchester again. Six months since he’d taken all those souls into himself. Forty-two weeks since Cas wasn’t Cas anymore. One hundred and eighty-three days of Dean feeling acutely helpless and hapless and hopeless.

Castiel had been merciful on the Winchesters and Bobby after he’d declared himself God and demanded their love. He’d let them go, even while knowing they would never bow to him. His parting words were a command, for them to stay out of his way. Then he’d gone without a second glance. 

The three had decided not to question the sudden bout of kindness.

Still, during that time, Dean continued to pray to Castiel with pleas, to get him to hear Dean out just once. Unsurprisingly, not a single one of his prayers was answered. After a while he stopped trying. But every once in a while, late at night when Sammy was fast asleep, Dean wouldn’t be able to help himself. He would sometimes ask for Cas to come down and show his face, and other times he just wanted to know how the once-angel was doing.

Dean figured he was doing just fine, judging by the looks of how the world was getting along now that their new ‘God’ was in place. Everyone was calling it paradise on Earth; Utopia. God had answered them at last, they said. There was more equality and peace and happiness, less pain and bitterness and anger. The news had barely anything to report past the mundane, which was a good thing. Everything was as everyone wanted it to be.

So why did Dean continue to fight it? Even Sam was admitting that maybe it was out of their hands, and that that wasn’t so terrible. Along with less war and famine, there was a significant decrease in monsters to hunt. For Sam, this meant a well-deserved break; for Dean, it was just more time for him to devise a plan to get Cas back.

Whenever Sam confronted Dean on his desire to reclaim the angel from God-status, his mouth full of why’s but his eyes shining with knowing, Dean didn’t know what to say. He wish he could respond with honest innocence, but after the fourth dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty he brought back with him from nights out, he found no room for denial. Yes, he thought of Cas as family, close as a brother; yet there was something else, something he didn’t have for Sam or Bobby. 

Dean hated admitting that it would be better to leave well enough alone. After all, the state of things was near-euphoric; why ruin the one break he’d ever gotten in his whole life? 

But he missed Cas like he’d missed Sammy when he’d jumped into that hole. And Sam had been gone a whole  _year._

So when Castiel materializes in Bobby’s living room, right in front of where Dean is sitting on the couch, Dean can’t help jumping to his feet and just staring, at a complete loss.

“Dean Winchester,” is the first thing Castiel says. He’s still got that dreamy look on his face, a slight smirk playing on his lips. He’s in Jimmy Novak’s suit but the trench coat is gone.

Castiel’s presence seems to take up the entire room, the air suddenly thick and hard to breathe in. Dean struggles to keep his footing under the weight of it. 

“You may be wondering why I am here.” His smirk widens as he watches Dean shudder in a breath, pleased to see what effect he’s having on the human.

Dean rubs a hand over his face, feeling exhausted out of nowhere. He’d fantasized about this, about what it would be like to have Cas back again. But this isn’t him. Cas is gone; he wants nothing to do with this _‘God_ ”. Yet he chooses to keep his eyes down because it simply tears him apart to see Cas like this. 

“Probably come to finish me off, I reckon,” he responds, barely finding his voice.

Castiel huffs a laugh. “You know, Dean, I have been hearing every single one of your prayers,” Castiel continues, his tone impersonal and detached. So he had just been ignoring Dean the entire time. Castiel puts his hands in his pants pockets and strolls over to a table, glancing down at the papers and books there. Dean wonders why, now that he’s God, he seems to have become so invariably  _human_. Castiel looks back at Dean, whose eyes are still averted. “They became incredibly sweet at the end. I could not bear to deny you any longer.”

Shit, Dean thinks to himself, recalling some of the prayers he’d sent Cas’ way. When he was half-asleep and more than a little drunk, Dean hadn’t been able to filter out his more desperate thoughts and desires. 

Castiel’s voice questions, “Won’t you look at me, Dean?”, and his head comes upward without his control. 

A random memory happens upon Dean when he’s forced to meet Castiel’s eyes. When Dean had placed a single hand on Cas’ shoulder and told him, quite simply, _Don’t ever change_. And Cas had smiled, a rare gift Dean could keep with him. 

Dean reaches out to Castiel before he can stop himself, wraps his arms around the once-angel’s neck, and holds on stead fast, despite knowing Castiel could rip him apart with a snap of his fingers.

The fact that Castiel does not do that makes Dean hold on tighter. He doesn’t really know what he could accomplish by hugging him; it just felt like the thing to do.

“Cas,” Dean whispers, “I know you’re in there, man.  _Please._ ”

Dean feels the ghost of a touch on his back, then it goes away, as if Castiel is debating on how exactly to go about the situation. Dean suddenly wonders what Castiel thought of his prayers, if his words had had any impact whatsoever. 

And then his hug is being returned in full, arms enveloping his waist, a face in the crook of his neck. “Dean,” Cas is mumbling. “Dean.” 

Dean’s Cas is back. His, and his alone. 

The air in the room thins slightly and starts to smell like an apple orchard, all sweet budding flowers and fruit in the midday sun. Cas’ voice comes like a summer breeze on Dean’s skin: “Dean I love you.”

Dean closes his eyes. 

Cas starts to cry and apologize, over and over again, as if he can say sorry for turning his back on family, on Dean. But then, hadn’t Sam, so many times? And Dean had forgiven Sam, every single time; the least he could do is forgive Cas this once.

It’s more than a little unsettling to have an angel crying on your shoulder, which is such a heart-breakingly human thing to do, but Dean just starts to rock him slightly and rub a hand in Cas’ hair, saying  _I know, I know_.

They’re like that for a bit, Dean comforting Cas through his tears, when Dean says, “So just let them go,” because it seems like the angel is finally ready to be himself again. Dean is ready to welcome him home again; this is where Cas belongs. With him.

Cas freezes, completely stops crying. His fingers uncurl from Dean’s shirt. He’s backing away, looking appalled and angry, as if he can’t believe such a thing would be suggested to him. His cheeks are still streaked with tears but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“What?” Dean asks, his arms outstretched, palms up, as if approaching a skittish animal.

“I should not have come here. You have done something to me.” Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t know how. I am saying things I do not mean.”

Dean’s heart squeezes.

“I will never come here again, Dean Winchester.” His face is once again placid and indifferent. “And don’t you dare pray to me. You will not get away free should I visit.”

“Why not just kill me now then!” Dean shouts without meaning to. But he’s honestly curious; Castiel offed Raphael without a thought, enjoyed it even, yet he’s letting Dean get away for a  _second_  time? 

Castiel just cocks his head slightly, then is gone. The thickness of the air lifts so abruptly, Dean falls to his knees.

He buries his head in his hands, the feeling of loss never one he got used to. But this time it’s worse because he got a glimpse at the person Castiel once was. Knowing he was so close to coming back, and Dean had let him slip through his fingers once again… how was he supposed to live with that? 

He was responsible. 

_And he’d said he loved me. He loved me._

_Dammit, Cas._

_I…_

**Author's Note:**

> this was the first fic i ever wrote, hurhurhur.


End file.
